Lacuna
by Xenoglossy
Summary: A Lacuna is defined as a hole, or a gap. A missing element or link that causes a dispairaging incompleteness. Edward, the Oedipus complex and everyone in between. Darkfic, RoyEd, Mature Themes


This was written for the Demidevi's fanfic contest, in the squick category. It's not the kind of thing I usually write and, overall, is a big, fat can of WTF. I'm not terribly pleased with it but, meh. I made the due date.

... uh, sort of. ANYWAYS, THERE IS A LOT OF INAPPROPIATE AND/OR DISTURBING SUBJECT MATTER IN THIS FIC. ALTHOUGH MOST OF IT IS NOT GRAPHIC IN NATURE, I DO NOT RECOMMEND ANYONE BEING EXPOSED TO IT. oh god kill me now

**Lacuna**  
Cephied Variable

**I.** "... and thus, in light of your recent experiences, some concern has been expressed within the military in regards to your emotional stability and mentalyhealth. You were recommended for a complete psychological debriefing, however I intervened on your behalf considering..." and here the Colonel paused and sipped his tea with calculated grace, eyeing Edward across the expanse of table and dimmed lighting. The boy's hands were loosely clasped around his own cup although he had yet to drink from it. He said nothing- which was strange, because it was exactly the moment where Roy might have anticipated an interruption. So he continued, voice nearly a whisper and eyes fixed intently on his young subordinate, "You keep far too many secrets, Fullmetal, for that to _ever_ be a good idea."

Edward kept his eyes fixed on the table, bangs shading his unusually pale face. His fingers tightened around the porcelain as he took a deep breath and muttered something incomprehensible. Roy placed his cup on the table lightly and tipped his head, eyes narrowing, "What was that, Fullmetal? That sort of inaudible murmering is very uncharacteristic of you."

"I _said_," Ed hissed between his teeth, "If that's the only problem, then why the hell are we here in your apartment? You could have just as easily told me all this shit back at the office."

Roy blinked and eased back in his chair, threading his fingers together thoughtfully, "Fullmetal, it is understandable that I too would be concerned for your well being." his voice dipped down from cold proffesionalism into what he thought was his best attempt at being paternal, "To put it plainly, _Edward_:I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

There was a poignant pause and then Edward began to laugh- it was a dry, cracked and broken sound that reverberated from somewhere deep in his throat. Roy perked an eyebrow and began to ask, "Fullmetal, what is so-" when the boy stood shakily (tossing his untouched, cold tea to the floor carelessly) and said: "Just stop pretending you care, Colonel. I'm really getting sick of it." he staggered a few steps and Roy flew to his feet, catching the blonde by narrow shoulders- holding him, perhaps, a little too tightly considering the circumstances, although Fullmetal was hardly a _delicate_ child.

"Pretending?" Roy demanded, shaking him (once again, perhaps a little more roughly than he would have liked to), "Is that what you think I'm doing Fullmetal? _Pretending_? My God- what do you think this is to me, some sort of game?"

Edward's eyes flickered upwards slowly, an eerily hollow smirk settling sickly into his features. He stared unblinking, as if sizing the Colonel up and shrugged out from underneath the older man's hands, "Sure- it's just all one big game, right? And I'm your most valuable piece, so you'd better make sure that I'm well polished for that crucial move- wouldn't want me out of play when you finally go to make your checkmate."

Roy was more surprised than Edward when his hands reached out and clamped around thin wrists, dragging the small body towads him in a flurry of red, black and gold. He locked Edward's hands against his chest with one hand, and tightly wrapped the other arm around the boy's waist and there was one dark moment of heat and shock and the frightening sweetness of a gentle surrender because, in all honesty, Fullmetal could have stopped this had he wanted to. Roy knew the strength in those hands, in those _arms_. Instead, Edward gave him a somewhat smokey, half lidded look lined with both accusation and what Roy feared might be desire and _he_ was the one who clumsily (and eagerly) closed the gap between them with a jerky, desperate motion that sent the Colonel stumbling back, stumbling forwards and hurtling towards the ground with a small figure pinned beneath him and far too much fabric spread about them.

The silence fell like darkness around them and there was simply nothing to say. There was a line here that Roy had never even considered crossing, let alone ever imagined toeing. Edward lay, his limbs sprawled limply (one would almost say _invitingly_), his ironic eyebrow quirk practically a challenge.

"It figures. I always said you were a pervert."

Roy kissed him again, if only to shut him up.

------------------------

Edward awoke with a groan and a throbbing pain in the back of his head. He blinked itno conciousness blearily, his surroundings nothing more than a dull blur interrupted by muted flashes of light. With a heavy shift, he attempted to rub the sore spot on the back of his skull to check if he was bleeding, however he found that his hands were bound.

"Oh, fuck." he muttered, finally snapping to alert. The room was a sparse, chilling concrete affair with a tall bookshelf filled with alchemy texts in one corner, and a dirty, linoleum table in the other corner. Ed didn't bother to ruminate too long on what, exactly, was in the misshapen black bag that was laying on the table and instead began to wonder why the hell it was that loony serialqkillers seemed fond of knocking him unconcious and tying him up. Well, at least _this_ one was stupid enough to leave his automail on. He pointedly avoided examining his surroundings further and began manipulating his hands behind his back with unusual calm. The last time he had been in this situation he had been twleve years old and only had one arm, it would be nothing short of ridiculous if he failed to escape this time.

He was halfway through the process of unwinding his arms from the pretzal-like angle they had been forced into when he heard the footsteps behind him. He froze stiff as a deep chuckle interrupted his struggle, "Your reputation percedes you, Fullmetal Alchemist." a soft voice mused, circling around Edward. The blonde whipped his vision around to see a disheveled, middle aged man leaning against the wall nearest the stairwell, a bemused smile on his ragged face.

Barry the Chopper had certainly been something else. He had been a man of petty theatrics- flamboyant hand gestures, frenzied laughter and an inexplicable habit of crossdressing. Once the wig and the makeup were off, there was something distinct and _unnerving_ about his features. A sallowness in his face, too-dark bags under his eyes, something _off_ about his smile. He was the first and only serial killer Edward had ever seen in his life, and although he didn't have much to make a comparison to, Ed would have to say that Barry the Chopper certainly looked the part.

This man... this man however was distressingly nondescript. He wore black pants and a button down shirt, had a dusty brown shock of hair and a five o'clock shadow. His face was smooth and slightly pudgy and his smile was bland, but kind, "Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Fullmetal?" he asked quietly, eyeing Edward up and down, "A handsome young boy like you should probably have a girlfriend."

Thoughts of Winry briefly flashed through Ed's mind along with the accompaning guilt. In these situations, he felt as if he should be able to say yes. Only...

"I don't see what me having a girlfriend has to do with anything." Ed muttered darkly, shaking his shackles, "Lame attempts at male bonding somehow fall flat when I'm chained to the wall."

The man's smile deepened, "Ahhh, a clever one. I'm surprised they sent such an infamous military agent after someone as insignificant as me."

"Oh, I wasn't _sent_ after you," Ed grinned wryly, twitching as his flesh arm twisted, "I just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time." _Seems like I always am, eh Colonel._

The smiled faded and the man sighed, unfolding his arms and pacing towards the table at the other end of the room, "Well, that's unfortunate. For a moment there, I almost felt special. I must thank you. Mr. Fullmetal, for putting me back in my place."

"Are you faking that inferiority complex or what?" Ed growled, "I thought you serial murderers were all gripped with some kind of freaky, delusional nature." his palms brushed together, but the angle still wasn't right, "I mean, what the hell kind of person would go around _killing_ people if he didn't think his life was more important than theirs."

The man braced his hands on the metal table and laughed gently, "Oh, no no no. That's not it at all." this time, when he met Edward's eyes the blonde stopped struggling. _There_ was the "serial murderer" glint. There was the imperfection in his face, in his expression that betrayed his true nature, the wolf in sheep's clothing. Ed shuddered as those eyes fixed upon him heavily, evaluating, analyzing, _devouring_. "I just do it because I'm lonely."

And then the eyes were gone. Edward sighed in relief, but found himself unable to move as he watched the man's hands slide up the mysterious, black bag. Ed's breath caught in his throat again as steady, pale hands began to unfasten the medical-issue latches and all of a sudden, he knew _exactly_ what was in that bag.

_"Fullmetal," the Lieutenent's Colonel's voice was a hot whisper in his ear, dragging him momentarily back into conciousness. He was cradled awkwardly in Mustang's arms, limp against the man's tense chest. He groggily forced his eyes open and his vision swung above and around him. He saw Second Lieutenent Hawkeye's near paternal despair; he saw Mustang's concerened discomfort; he saw a black bag, thick with unidentified mass, being led on a military issue stretcher and followed by a distinct trail of blood. As he blacked out again, he saw his mother's eyes._

"W-what are you doing?" Ed demanded, edging away from the man and his table his accursed black bag. The man frowned ruefully.

"I told you I was lonely. I want to make you understand, Fullmetal, so that you have something to tell your superiors."

"Tell my superiors?" Edward snorted nervously, aware that his voice had raised in pitch, "You're pretty confident of my abilities if you've already predicted my _heroic_ escape."

The man paused in his task and shot Ed a poignant, momentary gaze, "Oh, it was never my intention to kill you. Or keep you, even. I just want you to clarify my case in your official report." he tore the last few latches open and the bag fell to the floor with an unattractive, crumpling sound. Ed dug his fingernails into his palm and tried to will his eyes shut at the sight of the dead body underneath.

The body was clean and naked. There were deep gashes in her chest and down her sides, however they were nothing more than gaping peekholes into an intricate, biological machine that was no longer functioning.

_Scientific terms. Post mortem. Science, alchemy- death and life and everything is all just a part of the endless, alchemical process._ Edward's breath was growing ragged against his will, a combination of emotion and the scent of rotting flesh, _Fuck, Al. Where the hell are you?_

"_What_ are you doing?" Ed repeated, trying desperately not to work himself into a panic, "What the hell is there to set straight you _maniac_?"

And much to Ed's revulsion, the man ran a hand down the clammy, paper-white skin with something almost approaching affection, "Why, Mr. Fullmetal... I want you to tell them that I'm _not_ a murderer." this time the smile was twsited, unnatural, "... I'm a lover."

------------------------

Ed's shoulders twitched when Roy's hands fell on them comfortingly. He jerked away violently and began pulling his clothes on, not even attempting to braid his knotted hair, "For once in my life, I suppose I should be thankful Al doesn't have a sense of smell." he grabbed a fistful of his damp bangs and waved them under his nose, making a distasteful expression, "I absolutely _reek_ of you. Of your... fucking colonge. And your-" he trailed off, swallowing his words and sliding his arms into his coat. He turned to watch the Colonel watch him with dark, clouded eyes. "What?" he demanded, "I'm not going to _thank_ you if that's what you want."

The Colonel seemed to come out of a daze- his eyes cleared and he twisted his mouth conflictedly. With a slow shake of his head, he rose from the bed and said, "No, Fullmetal. That's not it at all."

Ed averted his eyes from the Colonel's naked figure as the man groped for the dresser and then he ran for all he was worth, slamming the door shut behind him. He was short of breath when he stopped running and the humid, night air pressed in all around him. He halted sharply and inhaled deep and ragged, cupping his hands around his face and trying to capture the Colonel's scent one more time.

Because even the scent of that horrible colonge mixed with sweat was better than the stench of corpses and sex that had been haunting him night after night.

**II.** "What are you thinking, brother?"

Ed was curled up in his brother's arms moreso for Al's comfort than his own warmth. They didn't dare light a fire, but the stars spun above them with such dizzying brilliance that they hardly needed one. Ed shifted against Al's metal body and lightly clapped his hands together above them.

"We can't tell anyone anything." he said firmly, letting his hands fall apart, "We can't trust _anyone_."

"... okay."

"Not _anyone_, Al- do you understand?"

Al's voice was unstable and he curled the fingers of his armour, a nervous tic maintained from his childhood, "Of course I understand, brother."

Ed sat up and pushed Al's heavy forearm off of his chest, settling a startlingly intense glare on his brother, "Not even Auntie and Winry, okay. No one else needs to know about this."

It took Al a moment- a moment too long- to reply. When he did, it was pre-meditated with a sigh and a hollow whine of metal scraping against metal, "I know, brother. Not even Auntie Pinako and Winry." Appeased, Ed relaxed again, resting his head in the leather padded joint beneath Al's elbow, "But... what do we do?"

Ed's eyes fell closed and worry lines began to wear in his face, "I know how to kill a Homoculus, so we'll be fine. And then... we'll figure out how to restore you." he grumbled and rubbed at his eyes with irrtation, opening them again to stare at the sky, "Afterwards, we'll most likely have to disappear from Amestris for a while. I've probably already been labled a deserter and possibly a traitor to the State, so..." here he trailed off suggestively with a flippant shrug, "I guess it doesn't really matter. All we really need is each other, right Al?"

"Ah, right." Al didn't sound completely convinced. He spoke his next words laced with nervous anticipation, "Are we going to kill all of them?"

"Eh, all of who?" Ed wondered quietly, already falling asleep.

"The Homoculus."

"Of course. I have no idea what the hell they're trying to accomplish, but-" a yawn, "- there's also no way in hell I'm gonna let them accomplish it. So-"

"Even _her_?" Al interrupted anxiously and Ed's eyes snapped open. He furrowed his brows and peered up at his brother critically.

"She's not Mom, Al. I've fought her- trust me."

Al made a defeated noise that echoed inside of him and he balled his hands into fists, "I trust you, brother." Ed 'hmmph'ed and once again attempted to sleep. Al observed Ed's eerie calm and for the first time felt as if he didn't know the person inside his brother's body.

"I miss Mom." he whispered after a while.

"I know, Al." Ed muttered, "I do too."

------------------------

And here he was, dirt encrusted beneath his fingernails and worked into the grooves in his automail. Edward leaned back on his heels and sighed heavily, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The sun was setting over Rizembool, casting a red shadow across the land, "Figures," Edward muttered to himself, clenching his automail hand into a fist in a flimsy attempt to calm his shaking nerves.

"Mom was wearing her favorite dress." he whispered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "It was green with white lace at the skirt. She was wearing the shoes Auntie bought her three weeks before... before." His eyes snapped open and he checked his resolve one last time before practically diving forwards into the reopened grave. He ripped open the coffin before he had time to regret his decision and very nearly keeled back over from the force of the stentch that rose from within.

_"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You're insane!" _

_"This girl's name was Penny. She wanted a man to take her away from her life." that tell tale soft chuckle, how Edward had ever thought it benign was a wonder, "I did that for her." he reached beneath his table and pulled out a small inkwell and a paintbrush. _

_"Just stop. Right now. Listen, shitface, if you- y-you really don't want me to make this report." _

_"This is true love, Mr. Fullmetal. Don't you understand? Love without barriers. Without arguments. Without-" _

_"Without consent, you sick fuck!" Ed wailed as the realization dawned on him, "Love isn't a fucking one way emotion!"_

There she was, in her green dress with the white lace and those shoes Auntie Pinako had bought in Central. There she was with her arms folded across her chest, the divine pose as ordained by the priest who prepared her body. Edward had never believed in God, but he had wished his mother to heaven that day nevertheless. There she was, gray and hollow, ripped in frayed in places but still undeniably his mother. Ed buried his face in his hands only to discover that he was crying, although he couldn't tell if it was because of the smell, or because...

_"It's love in it's purest form- the ultimate acceptance. Don't you see? There is no denial." the man made no move to stop despite Edward's protests. He dipped the brush into the ink smoothly and began to write, the corpse's thin, brittle skin his canvas. _

_"You're an alchemist." Ed whispered in mortification. _

_"Yes, didn't you know that?" he finished his array with a flourish, sealing the ink away and happily pressing his hands to the dead girl's stomach, "It's rather convinient, don't you think? Alchemy cannot bring back the dead, however it can breathe artificial life into a corpse. Come now, Penny. Show him your pretty face." _

_"Penny" did not move, however her chest began to rise and fall faintly with breath that was not her own. The man moved his hands up her body- between her breasts, around her neck, over her cheeks, "Warm," he murmered, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up off the table and towards him. He smoothed her red hair back from her expressionless face and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead, "See, Mr. Fullmetal. Love. I love this girl." slowly, he lowered his hands to the corpse's naked thighs, sliding his fingers between her legs. With gasp of horror, Edward pressed his eyes shut just in time to hear the man say, "Ahh, still soft inside. Beautiful."_

He touched her hair, still brown after all this time. He rubbed the fabric of her dress between his fingers. He agonized, sobbing raggedly over the body of his dead mother, whispering _Sorrysorrysorry_ like a litany; a mantra. "I love you," he choked brokenly as he clamped his flesh hand around her brittle wrist, and snapped off a finger with his automail. He groaned in pain as the hollow bone cracked and sat staring at the gray, rotted piece of Trisha Elric in his hands with no thoughts in his mind except what he could see before him.

His nostrils, his eyes, even his _ears_ were full of memories of his mother contrasted with the reality before him. She was so close and so far away. He had never wanted her back as badly as he did at that moment, it was a physical ache deep inside of him. A tangible _need_ to hear her voice, smell her hair, touch his cheek to hers. He shoved the broken finger into his pocket and grabbed the body's shoulders with an uncalculated, violent urge.

"Mom." he whispered, voice thick with sorrow, "Mom. Mom. Mom. _Mom_" he shook her, tenatively at first, however the rythym soon became tense and dischordent. There were songs playing in his head over and over again. Silly tunes to soothe a child to sleep. "Mom!" he shouted, heaving her corpse back into the coffin. There was a dull crack as her skull hit the edge of the wood and Edward jerked his hands away, shaking all over.

"Oh, God." he moaned, "Mom, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I... fuck, I love you more than anything please believe me. If I had known... if I had fucking _known_ I wouldn't have..." his words were swallowed by the soft fabric of Trisha Elric's favorite dress as he buried his face into his mother's cracked chest. He curled his fists into the fabric and lowered his head, pressing his ear to her stomach, _This is where life was born._ "I'm taking care of Al, mom."

_Edward managed not to look no matter how harshly the man grunted or how painful the wet, crunching sounds grew. He twisted and turned, glad for the nondescript man's momentary preoccupation. The man kept muttering things like "Love, love, love her. Love her enough to want her even now." _

_What seemed like a horrible eternity was brought to an abrupt end with a single clap, a flash of light and Edward tackling the man with all the force in his body. He pinned the smiling man to the ground and beat him again and again with his automail fist. He kept beating him until he felt strong, mechanical arms grip him beneath his shoulders and lift him from the man's limp frame. _

_"Don't kill him, brother!" Al exclaimed and Ed's breathing evened. No, it had_ never been his intention to kill him

_"I need... to phone that bastard." Ed muttered, empty words. He averted his gaze from the broken and bent corpse as he left the cellar._

------------------------

"He fucked dead bodies."

"Fullmetal, _what_-"

"The guy who screwed me up- that serialqkiller I apprehended when I was fourteen. That's what he did- he killed girls, reanimated them with alchemy and then had sex with them."

Roy was speechless. He stood there, ever the picture of elegance and grace with his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes wide and a horrified pallor blanching his face. Ed dug his hands in his pocket and spun on his heels, regarding the Colonel through his eyelashes, "And that's what I saw that night, Colonel. Perfect memories to relieve during my first sexual experience, don't you think?"

Roy swallowed heavily, but his throat was dry, "Edward, I-"

"Hah, don't even try to apologize." Edward's eyes were as bright as stars above them. He stalked closer and tipped his head upwards, "You still want to keep doing to me what you do knowing what I see in my head every single fucking time you touch me?"

Roy didn't seem to have any words for that as well. He held out his arms helplessly and searched Edward's eyes for answers, "I've always wanted what was best for you, Edward. But I am at a loss as to what you actually want from me."

Edward shook his head sadly and chuckled out an ironic laugh. He pulled the Colonel down by the lapels of his uniform and tried on his best, daredevil grin, "Your colongue drowns out the smell of dead bodies, that's it." he whispered smugly, "I just want you to help me forget."

Something faint lit up in Roy's dark eyes and he tried to smirk his stereotypical Colonel-Mustang-smirk, however his convicitions fell short and he was unable to hide the raw affection in his gaze, "Well, Fullmetal. I can certainly do that."

They collided, a mess of lips and limb. Something churned in Edward's stomach when he realized that he almost perferred the scent of corpses to that dammanble, trademark colongue.

**III.** "There's a book written on the other side of the gate about a man named Oedipus who killed his father and married his mother." Edward said, almost offhandedly, stirring sugar into his coffee lazily, "It's an interesting concept, but in the end the story ended up being another tired ironic parable. See- he had no idea what he had done until he'd already done it."

_Her named was Trisha Oster. She was too young to be his mother, but probably too old to be his lover. He met her in the street, carrying an armful of flowers and smiling brightly despite the proverty around her. The moment the shock left his face, he sidled up to her in the street and asked her what the flowers were for._

"The story is suppose to be horrible because Oedipus was an unwitting pawn of fate despite his desperate attempts to defeat his destiny. However, I feel that the story would have been more horrible had he been concious of what he was doing."

_That night they went out to dinner. Edward was aware that the charming veener he was putting up was hardly his real slef, but somehow he didn't care as long as she giggled in that heart breakingly painful way. As long as he had another excuse to see those eerily familiar eyes light up across the table._

"By the end, the narrative has removed all of the responsibility from Oedipus' shoulders. Because everything was technically an accident, it allows him to remain a hero in the reader's eyes despite his acts of unforgivable incest and patracide. He remains the cliched, archetypical literary figure even in the light of such destestable acts and somehow, the reader still feels sorry for him."

_Eventually Edward admitted to himself that these little dinner fiascos were "dates". 'She's not mom.' he told himself firmly the first time she leaned over to kiss him, 'She's not mom'. he told himself as her hands slipped into his jacket and began to undo his buttons. 'She's not mom' he told himself as he watched her sleeping form rise and fall beside him in the dim light. 'She's not mom,' he told himself as he bent over to kiss her goodnight, 'And I really shouldn't wish she was.'_

"The story makes me sick." Edward concluded, "Oedipus is punished for sins he didn't even realize he was committing. The story had no point except to repulse the reader with the actions of a helpless, ignorant man."

"Why are you telling me about this, Edward?" Roy asked calmly, his gaze set intently on Edward's face, expression deceptively blank.

Edward just laughed bitterly, "I have an Oedipus complex." he raised his eyes to meet Roy's gaze, something dark and undefinable in his eyes, "I love my mother, and I _hate_ my father. But symbolically I did it backwards. Isn't that hilarious?"

Roy's one good eye narrowed critically and he pressed his lips together in a thin line, "Edward, I'm not sure exactly what you're trying to-"

"Isn't that what you wanted all along? To be a father figure to me?" Ed rose and approached Roy, a dangerous twitch in the corner of his mouth, "I didn't want a father figure. I didn't fucking _need_ one! Having sex with you was easier in the long run."

Roy sighed and reached out for the Edward, grabbing the young man's wrists loosely and pulling him closer, "That's ridiculous. You said it yourself- you were emotionally distressed at the time. I simply took advantage of the situation, and for that I must apologize." Edward pulled away at those words, glaring.

"I told you not to apologize. I _knew_ what I was doing." he snickered shakily, "I killed my mother after all," (_a homoculus reduced to base chemicals, dissolving into the atmosphere_), "So I might as well have slept with my father."

"I'm not your father, Edward." Roy said firmly:"Don't say that."

"You were more a father to me that _he_ ever was." Ed pointed an accusatory finger in the man's direction, "Maybe on some level I wanted you to be my father. I needed someone else to hate." (_'You're not worth it, old man', Edward muttered, a knife pressed to Hohenheim's neck in the middle of the night_). "Ha, well that must be it." Ed's voice wavered and he nodded, as if affirming something for the first time, "I wanted you to be my father. I wanted _you_ to be my fucking _father_."

The admission cost him more than he imagined, but not nearly as much as Roy's next words, "I love you." he murmered, once again dragging Edward into an awkward embrace. Edward allowed the kisses to slide past his lips, the caresses to fold beneath his clothes, but _he_ was the one who shoved Mustang to the floor roughly, hands and lips moving as one possessed and parched would move.

"You're the one who awakened this in me," he muttered ominously into Roy's neck, "This fucking _sickness_. If you hadn't touched me, I might never have even known." he pressed his lips to where his breath had been, and then his thumb to where his lips had been. Roy gasped in shock as Edward's hands tightened around his neck and struggled valiantly, but Edward had him pinned down with two automail limbs and Roy Mustang simply wasn't what he used to be.

He had Oedipus beat. Edward pressed harder on the man's jugluar and leaned down to kiss him firmly, possessively drinking his last breaths. Oedipus had only killed his father and slept with his mother. Edward Elric had done it all and then some.

**the end.**


End file.
